Like so many people out there, I watched the Olympics these past two weeks. I particularly like the diving, swimming, track, and for the first time, I got into gymnastics and beach volley ball. All of this sports watching got me thinking, what sports do I hope Isaac plays?
Well, gymnastics and diving would be great to watch, but let's face it, a central Vermonter with no gymnastics or diving teams around he isn't going to make it far. Soccer and basketball are accessible, but I'm going to admit something. I don't think I'd want to watch match after really long soccer and basketball match. And that's what it would take to get my picture on those P&G commercials. Long, grueling hours of driving to practices and sitting through games in order to get my little boy to thank me on that podium for all of my hard work. *sniff*
But, then this happened: he fell. And he fell hard. Being mother of the year and all, I said, "Don't rush over, he's okay," to my mom who jumped up off of the couch. Then, my little baby boy screamed a scream, and he looked at me, and he had a black and blue egg right over his a-moment-ago-perfect blue eye the size of a, well, egg.
At that moment I thought to myself, "Self, you are the world's worst mother". You see, my little guy was hurt, and I didn't react. In fact, I non-reacted. I did the opposite of react. And what was I thinking about at the time? Getting my face on a P&G commercial.
And, if a bump, no matter how big or small is going to send me for a loop, then how am I going to deal with all of those late night games and driving ordeals? I'm just not strong enough to be the mother of an Olympian. I guess I'm going to have to find another dream to dream.
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